


The Solace of Strangers I

by chains_archivist



Series: The Mercy of Death by Crushergal [2]
Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: Abuse of the Gaelic tongue, Alternate Universe, Angst, Boys in Chains, Companion Piece, M/F Rape, M/M Rape, Multi, POV Methos, Rampant Sentimentality, Slaves, Use of pet names past of the point of decency, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-08
Updated: 2015-04-08
Packaged: 2018-03-21 22:04:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3705933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chains_archivist/pseuds/chains_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>by Crushergal</p><p>(This is a companion to Mercy of Death - Methos' story and his POV. It will make little sense unless you read MoD first)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Solace of Strangers I

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Dusk, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [Boys in Chains](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Boys_in_Chains), which opened in 2000 as a multifandom archive for both fiction and art, but then sadly went offline in 2005. To bring the archive back, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in December 2014. Open Doors [posted an announcement](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/1832) and e-mailed all creators about the move, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please [contact the Open Doors committee](http://transformativeworks.org/contact/open%20doors).

"Matthias! Your books have come!" My wife's deep voice rang up the stairs.

"My thanks, Maria - I'm coming down." There was indeed a large crate sitting in our front hall - I would have to ask a servant to help me get it up the stairs. I lifted the lid under Maria's amused gaze.

"So many books, husband. Where do you keep them all?"

"I can always sleep on them if I run out of shelves, wife." I lifted one out - a copy of Herodotus, in Persian. "Perhaps I could read you some of this?"

"No, I thank you," she said dryly. "My sleep comes easily enough. Matthias, I have to go out to the Guild Hall - would you do me the favour of attending the market later? I have some things to purchase, and frankly, I cannot trust Stefan with the list."

"You are too hard, Maria - the boy cannot read, you know that, and it's not his fault some of the merchants are nearly as illiterate as he is. Give it to me, I'll attend to it." She gave me a sisterly kiss on the cheek and produced a scrap of paper from her sleeve. It was unusual for her to ask me a favour such as this although I never minded. We were husband and wife in name only - a rich and independent widow, she had asked me five years ago to wed her to fend off unwanted suitors - but I was fond of her, and she of me. We had been friends long before we were married, and while many saw only her plain looks, I knew underneath she had a sharp and often brilliant mind. She tolerated my bibliophilic instincts, and I offered advice and assistance on those rare occasions when she asked. We rubbed together well enough and I wager we were happier than many truly married couples.

"I will be back late, husband, I have agreed to go to my father's house for dinner. I made your excuses, as usual." I pulled a face, and she laughed. I liked her father not, and the feeling was mutual. Maria did not care - all she asked was that I presented myself on the few unavoidable public family occasions on her arm. The rest of the time, we lived separate, if amicable, lives, within her large and comfortable house.

I called for Stefan and together we got the heavy crate up to my room cum library, and then I spent several happy hours immersed in my new acquisitions. With a guilty start I realised that I had left it very late to go to the market to buy the silks and spices Maria particularly wanted, and I did not like to disappoint her. I pulled on my hooded cloak, checked my sword, and hurried out into the drizzle that had been falling all day. The spice merchant was just closing up, but I was able to prevail on him to let me purchase the mace and cardamom. The silks were harder to find, and I had to admit defeat on one of the colours. I had at least tried, and the trader said there would be fresh stock the following week, if the shipment arrived. The rain had increased to a proper downpour and I dodged the puddles and the mud by heading down a back way to our house - a mistake, as it happened, I would have plenty of time to repent. I sensed one of our kind, and would have avoided him, but my path was blocked.

"Mathew," the Immortal said, his sword out in a clear challenge.

I knew the man, but it was hardly welcome knowledge. "Matthias Groothaus, actually, Walker. What do you want?"

"What do you think,  _Matthew_?" I drew my sword slowly, keeping a safe distance from him. "Oh no, you've got it all wrong. It's not your  _head_  I want."

I backed away and drew out my own weapon. "Sorry, that's the only part of my anatomy on offer." Too late, I realised we were not alone in the alley. Worse, I had backed myself up against a brick wall. His four mortal thugs closed in on me.

"You see, young Matthew, your head really won't do," he said with false friendliness. "I need all of you - and unfortunately, I need you alive. Pity, really. But you cost me a very expensive slave that time - it's only fair that I get something back for it."

"You killed her yourself, Walker! I owe you nothing." I waved my sword in warning at the nearest attacker, who merely grinned.

"Now!" Walker yelled, and I found myself enveloped by a heavy net that tangled my sword and my arms. I was dragged easily to the ground.

"You can't get away with this, Walker," I sputtered furiously. "I have a position, my wife is an important citizen ..."

His answer was a kick to my ribs. "A dead man can't have a position in society, and unfortunately for you, I have two people ready to swear that they saw me do this," he stabbed me with a knife into my gut, and again through a lung, "and that your corpse was robbed and taken away by a gang. I hope your lady wife has a black dress, Matthew ...."

The rest of his words were lost as I faded into death.

I woke to the sickly sensation of jolting movement, and sliding about on rough wood. I waited until my body adjusted, painfully as ever, to coming back to life before I opened my eyes. I was in a cart, bound of course, and dressed only in a rough tunic such as labourers wear, but without the breeches that would keep my legs warm. My own fine, warm clothes were nowhere to be seen. It was still raining hard, and I was drenched. Although the spring was mild enough, it was not so mild that being wet and exposed to the air did not make me horribly cold. I twisted to see who was driving the cart - Walker, I presumed, since I could feel a presence. Damn. What the hell was going on? That Walker hated me was no secret, ever since he caught me in bed with his servant - his slave, really - and killed her in a rage a hundred years before. But to meet me, and not kill me? Moreover, it seemed he had come to Heidelberg to find me. Methos, old chap, I told myself - you are in trouble.

I tested my bonds but the rough rope held good, and as I was also tied to the body of the cart, I could not throw myself out the back of the tray. How long had I been dead, I wondered? And more importantly, where was I being taken.

"Hey, Walker!"

"Shut up!" He did not even turn around.

"Whatever you think you can make from delivering me, I can promise you twice the amount."

That made him stop the cart. "I doubt that, Matthew. I really do. You're worth more than your weight in gold, did you know that? Even skinny as you are, that's a lot."

"I'll double it, I swear."

He looked at me thoughtfully, and for a second I thought he might accept, before he shook his head regretfully.

"No, sadly, I don't think that will do. The money is only part of it. Selling you as a slave will also serve my need for revenge - but cheer up, it means you get to keep that worthless head on your shoulders."

"Look - three times," I said desperately. "Whatever you've been promised - come on, Walker, how much is your revenge worth?"

"More than you can possibly offer me, Matthew. I've waited a long time for this," he grinned, and then he schnicked at the horses.

Scheiss! Shit! "At least tell me where we're going?"

"That's really nothing for you to worry about, slave," and he lost all humour from his face. "But if you don't shut up, I'll shut you up. Trust me, that's something I'd enjoy doing."

Think, Methos. I looked around me again, and there was a sad lack of knives, glass or sharp edged metal to cut the ropes with, and the knots were hellishly tight - so much so that I had lost all feeling in my hands and feet. My purse, my sword and shoes were probably in the hands of the thugs he had hired and I had no idea where I was. For now, my only option was to wait until we stopped and try to make my escape then.

It was a very long time before we stopped, and my bladder was nigh to bursting. Walker was, unfortunately, no fool, and he looped a leash over my head before he untied me from the cart, hauling me none too gently from the back to collapse on the ground. To my surprise we had stopped in the middle of nowhere. "If you want to piss, slave, get on with it." He offered me no help in standing, and I was forced to crawl to a tree, hitch my way up and hold myself in hands that felt disembodied. I was shivering almost too hard to do what I needed to do, but I knew also that Walker would not be giving me many chances to relieve myself.

As soon as I was done, he pulled on my leash and tied it to one of the cart's wheels. That, it appeared was the extent of his care. "Are you planning to starve me, Walker?"

"You'll live." He turned away and busied himself building a fire out of the damp kindling he had found.

"Come down in the world a bit, haven't you?" I taunted. "Time was that sleeping by a road in the wet would have been beneath you. Bottom drop out of the slavery business, did it?"

He refused to answer but the smell of the food he was cooking was punishment enough. I was hollow - I guessed I had been dead more than a day. I also guessed we were avoiding other people since he wanted to not have to answer awkward questions about my presence. I tested my leash - it was too short for me to lie down. "How am I supposed to sleep, Walker? You used to take better care of your merchandise than this - or is that how you lost everything?"

That did it - he stomped over to me, seized my hair and punched my face, before untying the leash and pulling me up by it - this time he hitched it to the driver's seat, so I had no choice but to stand unless I wanted to strangle myself. "See where your complaining has got you now, Matthew? I only have to deliver you alive - I don't have to deliver you happy, fed, comfortable or even healthy. We've got a long way to go, boy - and I'm going to enjoy making it as miserable as possible for you as I can. Now shut up."

I had gained a little knowledge, but at the price of a very unpleasant night - not quite a bargain. I gritted my teeth and locked my legs, hoping I might be able stay awake, but it was hopeless. I was too cold, too tired - too depressed, if truth be known, at the sudden and most unwelcome turn of events. I had been a slave before, and for too long, to feel anything but dread at the prospect. And even though it might be a long way to our eventual destination, I could not as yet see how that would help me, nor how I would recover my old life. The longer I was gone, the more likely it was that Maria would, like the sensible woman she was, accept I was dead, and marry again. I wondered if she would keep my books? I woke with a start as I started to slide down the cart and began to choke. I forced myself upright. Walker was sound asleep, the bastard, wrapped in a warm cloak under the cart, out of the rain. I could not even piss on him from my position, more was the pity.

I woke to find him laughing at me. My sore throat and urine drenched state confirmed that I had fallen asleep and choked to death. He had untied my leash, but not my hands, which were now purple and utterly without feeling. He kicked me. "Get up, boy. Time to be moving." I half considered making him lift me into the cart, but I thought it was likely to cause me more aggravation in the long term than him. I got stiffly to my feet too quickly, and I was overtaken by dizziness. How long since I ate? "Would it kill you to feed me once in a while, Walker?"

"No, but it'll kill you, Matthew. Shut your mouth." He shoved me roughly into the back into the cart and I curled around the ache in my gut. I was desperately thirsty but I knew better than to ask for water. It had stopped raining, so I could not even do as I had done yesterday and lie with my mouth open to the sky.

The jolting was worse today - Walker was taking a very circuitous route to wherever it was we were going. I slept much of the time, exhausted from dying and with no energy from food, that was for sure. He stopped to eat at noon, but made no attempt to free me or feed me. I supposed, in his situation, I might have been tempted to treat a captive, especially an Immortal captive, thus - I certainly was going to be less and less trouble to him the weaker I got, and I had treated prisoners worse than this in my time - but I could not imagine who would want me in the state I would be in when Walker was done with me.

He woke me at our night's destination by dragging me out of the cart and letting me fall to the ground. I really had no energy to move, and when he told me to relieve myself, I shook my head. "Suit yourself," he said carelessly, hauling me under my armpits to make to sit against the cart where he tied my leash securely to the wheel.

"Please," I croaked, "just a little water."

He looked at me, considering. "All right." He picked up his canteen and sloshed it - there was a little left. "Open up." I opened my mouth, but the bastard poured it over my head. Feverishly I tried to lick up the trickle that went near my mouth, but most of it ran off. "Oh, sorry - not enough? Want some more?"

"Please." I whispered, not too proud to beg, but I regretted it when he opened his breeches and let forth a stream of urine over me. I squeezed my eyes and mouth shut, but the foul smelling stuff clung to my hair, face and clothes.

"Found a way to close that smart mouth of yours, I see. I'll have to remember that." I did not give him the satisfaction of seeing my anger.

It must have rained during the night after I had once again strangled myself, because my clothes were drenched but more sweet-smelling when I revived. I had not been able to drink the water, unfortunately. When Walker came to kick me upright, I refused to move - really, I could not and I could no longer see any reason to make his life easier by trying.

"Does your buyer like slaves with no hands and feet, Walker?" I said as loudly as I could out of a sore throat.

He pulled me up and I hung limply in his grasp. "You'll heal."

"Not if they drop right off, you fool." He belted me across the face. "That doesn't change the facts," I said as steadily as I could. "You add no circulation, no food and no water together and you get gangrene or worse."

He grinned evilly at me. "You choose then, slave - food or freedom. Not both."

"Untie me," I said without hesitation. I could recover from starvation - if my hands and feet fell off, they would not grow back. He made sure I was secured by a neck rope, and another around my waist, with the knots threaded through behind the tray where I could not reach them, and then he cut the bonds on my hand and feet with little care, cutting me as well. I was thankful he had started to move off before the circulation began to return, because I did not care for him to see me in agony, nor with the tears of pain running down my face as I tried to bite back my groans. It was worth it though - eventually my hands and feet resumed a normal colour. If I could persuade the sadist to give me a drink, I would do well enough for a day or two.

I was less sanguine about having chosen to starve by the end of the day - even spending it mostly asleep, I still felt my stomach was falling out my spine. He relented to the extent that he gave me a cup of water when he stopped to eat at noon, and another when we camped, but I could have drunk four times that amount. As soon as my thirst eased a little, my hunger came back in full force. To distract me from my emptiness, I decided to try and get more information out of my captor.

"So where did you say we were going again, Walker?"

"Shut up, slave."

"Come on, man - what harm can it do? Just to tell me that?"

He pitched a rock at me, which I could not dodge because of my binding to the wheel. It caught me on the forehead and blood trickled into my eye, another nuisance among many. "Let's just say, I don't think you'll think it an improvement. Now shut up or you won't get another drop of water between here and when I deliver you." It was a threat I could not ignore.

I tried to stay awake to follow our route, but in truth, I hardly had strength to keep my eyes open. After five more days, I began to hallucinate from the lack of food, and Walker was beginning to become irritated by my lack of response to his demands, even to his blows. I could no longer stand, nor move when he ordered it, and when he told me to get out of the cart, all he got was an idiot grin. What the hell did he expect? He swore as he pulled me out so that I lay in a heap on the ground. He kicked me to try and make me get up, but you cannot get blood out of a stone, and he could not get sense or obedience out of a dying man. I came to after a bout of dizziness to the minor miracle of him holding water soaked bread to my lips - I sucked it in greedily, and to my amazement, more followed. I was not fool enough to think that he had suddenly discovered compassion, but I guessed his buyer wanted me coherent. I think that worried me slightly, once I had food enough in my stomach to think of anything but my hunger.

My conditions improved very slightly after that - he now offered me some bread every day, and water, and no longer made it impossible for me to sleep without strangling myself. But he was just as surly and uncommunicative as before, and I was too afraid that he would suddenly withdraw food and water again to push him. It made very little difference, in the end - even knowing where I was going did not change the fact I could not go back whence I came, at least, not easily, and certainly not without the resources I presently lacked. He was not feeding me more than was absolutely necessary to keep my brain functioning - I was hardly in top condition.

The secrecy of our journey did not change once he reached the sea - a private vessel awaited, and I realised that who ever had ordered my abduction had resources that far outmatched mine. It was not Walker's own ship, but a much smaller boat, with a crew of fifteen or so. Walker reapplied the feet and wrist bindings before we boarded.

"So this is our package, Walker?" the first mate greeted him. "Not much to look at, is he? Sure he's worth it?"

"So I was told. But you're right - he's hardly a prize. You and your men can do what you like to him - just don't cut his head off. Anything else goes." Walker turned to me and grinned. A more blatant invitation to sadism and rape, I had never heard.

I was tied up on deck, exposed to the elements, and once we had set sail, I was alternatively baked and frozen. I have never been a good sailor, and soon I fell prey to the misery of seasickness - ironic, I thought since I had nothing to bring up. Walker ignored me for the entire four days of our journey, and I was offered not a bite of food nor drop of water save what the heavens brought me. Despite Walker's words on boarding, I was mostly left alone. It became something of a habit for the crew to kick or slap me as they passed my position, but only the mate came up to take his pleasure the first night I was on board. I think my lack of response to his dry thrustings and gruntings disappointed him, and after cracking me along the jaw as a fare thee well, he did not come back.

I realised eventually we were sailing along the English coast. This puzzled me even more - I could think of no one I knew, let alone who hated me enough to hire Walker to fetch me, who lived there. I had little energy to think about the question - the lack of nourishment or water left me in a sorry state, and Walker was forced to carry me off the ship over his shoulder since my legs frankly refused to obey me. He had left his cart behind, and only had a single horse. If he expected me to walk, he was in for a disappointment, but to my surprise, he made no move to travel any great distance. I was put on the saddle with him behind, but we only went a mile distant before he stopped, clearly intending to wait for some time, since he made a proper camp. I was past caring, curling up into a ball and going to sleep, grateful at least to be on solid ground.

We waited for a day and a half before the rendezvous was made. A slaver came through, his wagon full of sorry wretches, to whose number I was to be added, it appeared. "Are you sure he's the one, Walker?"

"Certain. I know this man, remember."

The slaver walked around me. "Nothing special, is he? Prove it."

Without further ado, Walker seized my arm, and laid it open with his knife from elbow to wrist. I gasped and tried to escape his hold, but he held me firmly.

The slaver looked moderately impressed by the healing. "All right. Your gold is under the wagon, in the chest."

Walker got the money chest out as directed, and when he opened it, I was astonished at the value someone had placed on me. There was literally a minor king's ransom in the box - and if the slaver was prepared to buy me to sell on, that meant even more money changing hands.

"Give me a hand with him, Walker?" the slaver asked, and Walker held me on the ground as shackles were placed on my wrists and ankles, and a collar around my neck. My shoddy clothing was torn from me, and I was thrust into the back of the wagon naked. My new fellows looked at me without interest.

"Goodbye, Matthew," Walker sneered. "Next time we meet, I will use my sword as it was intended." I refused to answer the man - if we met again, I vowed to myself Walker would not be alive at the end of the encounter. But for now, survival was the imperative.

The slaver rode his cart for hours, and we were given no rest, food or water until we stopped for the night. It seemed the cart was transport and housing, but at least we were allowed some thin soup and bread. My fellow captives were all foreign. I spoke most of their tongues but chose not to reveal this. Apart from feeding us, the slaver did not come near enough to talk to, and in any event, I doubted he would give me any more information than friend Walker had done. I slept sandwiched between a tiny Negro man and a young girl of no more than twelve. It was the warmest I had felt in over a month.

Our destination became clear enough - we were only a few miles from the town where we were to be sold. The slaver was the only one offering human beings for sale, but there was a busy market in progress. I felt tears prick my eyes remembering the home I had been torn so abruptly from, and my Maria, good and gentle friend that she was. I was sure I would not see her again.

Although there was much interest in us, and particularly in me, and we were poked and prodded and examined in the humiliating manner which typified such sales, no one actually made an offer for us. I got the feeling that everyone was waiting for something - or someone - to arrive. I was right.

 

* * *

After all this time, the shock was indescribable -  _Cassandra_  was behind this? I could not believe the beautiful and the spirited woman I had taken slave nearly three thousand years ago had become this hard-faced harridan. Her hatred for me spilled out of her like a miasma. I knew she blamed me for much of the pain of her early life, but had nothing improved for her in all that time, that she needed to exact revenge in this way?

Her beautiful lips curled as I was taken from the block. "And so you have come back to pay the price for your crimes, dog."

"As my lady wishes," I said, almost without sarcasm. Her guard struck me to the ground, and kicked me. Hunched around the pain, I felt another Immortal presence - what the hell was going on?

"Welcome back, brother," I heard a sibilant whisper, and then saw another face from the long, unlamented past.

"Caspian," I wheezed. Caspian - and Cassandra? The world must surely be coming to an end.

"Told you I'd find him, Caspian," Cassandra crooned.

My former 'brother' grinned and bobbed his head obsequiously. "So you did, my lady. And now you can exact vengeance just as you have planned."

In an instant, I understood what had happened to Cassandra. Caspian had been poisoning her mind, feeding her hate and her sick desires. I briefly mourned the loss of the gentle healer I had taken, a woman I had almost come to love, had certainly come to care for. Nothing seemed to remain of that person.

My chains were exchanged for sturdier ones, and I was forced to walk the five miles back to Cassandra's impressive and very ancient keep, with the encouragement of numerous blows and kicks. I noticed the looks of fear that were shot at Cassandra and her party as we passed - myself, I attracted curiosity only. She called to a fair-haired, good looking boy. "Richard, get Duncan to come to the hall."

He bowed respectfully and fled. "Dawson," Cassandra snapped. "Bring the slave into the hall." She swept off. Dawson was a greybeard, at least fifty, with a military bearing and wise eyes - it seemed that Cassandra had a good eye for slaves, or had perhaps been fortunate in her selections.

Both, I decided, as I first saw the magnificent Scot who was apparently her overseer. Gods! What was such a man doing as a slave? My puzzlement grew, and was the only distraction from the next two hours of torment. My lady had been a long time preparing for my arrival, it was certain, and Caspian had set up a few little twists to his familiar tortures. When Cassandra took her wire flail and beat me to death in front of the Scot, I had nothing in my mind but agony.

I woke to pain and mutilation, but also the unfamiliar sensation of being cared for tenderly. The Scot, Duncan, was mere inches from my face, and offered me reassurance, amusing though it was in the circumstances, that I was safe. The regret I had seen in his expressive eyes, that he had not been able to prevent himself expressing while Caspian tortured me, was in full spate - what had Cassandra come to, that she inflicted the likes of me and her degradations upon a kindly good man like Duncan MacLeod? I believe the sight of me caused as much pain to him as my hideous shackles did for me. The only comfort I could offer was that my punishments were just, which they were if one took all my many crimes into account - but he was not convinced. Nor did he heed my warnings that his kindness to me, in direct contravention of Cassandra's orders, was most unwise. A good man, and a wilful one, was Duncan.

I was grateful for the food, and unspeakably grateful to lie somewhere warm and dry. He regretted the insistence on my lying on stones - he did not realise, nor could I explain, how much of an improvement it was over what I had been enduring. I took advantage of his guileless offer of his bed during his absence, and slept a little despite the relentless agony of my head bindings. One day, I promised myself, Caspian would know what this felt like.

Duncan MacLeod was part of my punishment, I realised belatedly. If Cassandra could not kill me with cruelty, Duncan would kill me with kindness. It was hard to hide my emotions from him, and appear cool and calm in front of him, especially when I saw his distress which he equally tried to hide from me as he prepared to take me to Cassandra's room early the following morning. Did Cassandra know what she was doing to her valuable slave? Would she even care? As the first lashes fell, I thought she probably wouldn't.

She was watching me as I revived, and tried to lift myself off the agony in my wrists - if she had offered to cut my hands off at that point, I would have accepted unhesitatingly.

"Does it hurt, sweeting?" she crooned. I tried to look at her steadily, but my winces betrayed me. "Oh good, I am so glad. Did you know how much I suffered in the desert when I escaped from you, Methos?"

There are few things more annoying than people asking you things when you are gagged. I shrugged and she seized me by my throat. She could have strangled me with one hand - I had no fight left in me. "I suppose you want to know how long this will last, old man. How long can you live?" she said in a hard voice.

My heart froze. Surely not - not even Cassandra as she was had that sort of will power. Torture is boring - for all the participants. There was no payback for her except vengeance, and that coin would never be paid in full, I felt.

She tossed the whip away. "Elsa, get Duncan," she snapped at her timid little maid. "I have waited a very, very long time for you, Methos. It will be a very, very long time before I am sick of you."

Oh joy unbounded, I thought, concentrating on biting back moans. My arms did not just ache - the pain was sharp, and unyielding. Just like having a really sharp object stuck in them, I thought sourly.

Duncan came in, and I knew at once something had changed. His whole demeanour showed contempt and anger towards me, such a change from the morning I could have wept. He's found something out, I thought. By his lady's orders, he dragged me through the hall - if Cassandra thought to embarrass me, she was mistaken. I did not give a damn about the opinions of her slaves. But Duncan's opinion mattered, and his coldness back in his room undid me shamefully. He told me to wash and I tried, but the pain and the sadness and the weariness were too much to bear. He was too good a man at heart to watch me suffer, of course, and forced himself to help me even though the knowledge of what I had done to Cassandra made him visibly sick. He left me alone all that afternoon, without food or water as he was forced to by his mistress, without comfort or consolation, as his own good honest heart directed.

Left to myself, I wallowed in self-pity, fired by pain, hunger and intense fatigue. I missed my home in Heidelberg, I missed the easy friendship of Maria and my scholarly companions - I missed freedom. I could do myself no good like this, I knew, and I promised myself the second my hands stopped hurting so wretchedly, I would buck myself up. My pitiable state broke through Duncan's anger - only belatedly I realised I had missed my opportunity to distance him from me. He was so beautiful in his confusion - wanting to hate me, fearing me, pitying me - blaming Cassandra for her wretched cruelty. I was in a ridiculous position - unable to care about or help myself, I found myself wanted to protect this gentle man. Had I become so desperate for human kindness that I was a slave to anyone who offered it? I did not think I had sunk so low - truly, Duncan MacLeod was a special case.

He kept me alive, helping me drink at least on the days when Cassandra refused to let him free my mouth, coaxing food into me when my stomach rebelled from being empty too long, or from the nausea of blood loss and weariness. I was rapidly too exhausted to shift for myself - if Duncan did not bathe me, feed me, help me walk, I would have just stayed curled up before the fire and doubtless been killed for it. I hated him for keeping me fit enough to endure, but I could not tell him that, any more than I could tell him how desperately I needed him and his gentle touch and his soft words. He took me to his bed and held me as chastely as any nun, as tenderly as a mother does her babe. Then every morning he took me to be flogged to death - something he hated as much as I did.

Cassandra continued to taunt me as she tortured me, but there was an increasingly manic air to her. She was truly mad, probably had been for many years, and I added this crime to the many Caspian had committed. I had, on those increasingly rare occasions when I thought of her at all, fondly imagined her living quietly and at peace, perhaps pursuing her healing craft, perhaps finding the love she once had so great a capacity for. Instead, her heart was worm ridden and rotten. I was not blameless, I well knew. I had, after all, been the reason she had ever met my former brother. But I could not take on myself entirely the blame for what she had become.

I thought things had got just about as bad as they were going to - as ever, I had forgotten how much my expectations in that regard could be exceeded, but then one cannot live for thousands of years without being something of an optimist. I had come to take the routine, ghastly as it was, for granted, but it only took Duncan to fail to replace the hated gag in my mouth to break through the fog of my complacency - for a heart stopping moment, I thought he had decided to try and free me.

It was not that - Cassandra was going away and handing me over to Caspian the following day. It was unalloyed bad news, and Duncan's desperation at my plight cut me to the very soul. But even that, too, was worse than I feared - to my horror, he admitted that he cared for me. Oh my poor Scottish fool, I thought - my beautiful Highland child. I had tried as much as I could to warn him from becoming engaged in my situation, but Cassandra could not have done a better job of twisting Duncan's emotions if she had planned for the man to fall for my dubious charms. I was too tired, too heartsick and much, much too lonely to be too forceful in trying to warn him about me.

He held me in strong, warm arms all that night, and took me with every reluctance to Caspian's den the next day. For a brittle second I feared my Highlander would challenge Caspian over me, but my prayers were answered and he left, not without a last pained look which hurt me more than anything my companion was about to inflict on me.

"You must have been wetting your pants over this," I sneered at Caspian - not a bad trick for someone hanging naked. from a hook in a ceiling.

He grinned at me as he sharpened his knife. "You have no idea, brother. I've waited for you forever. I suppose you think it was Cassandra who brought you here?"

Now he really did surprise me. "I'm surprised you had the money to fling about over me, _brother_."

"Oh, it was worth every penny, Methos. Now, where shall I start? It's just like old times, isn't it? All we need is Kronos and Silas for it to be perfect."

"Oh yes, that would be wonderful," I said sarcastically.

All I remember of that day - days, I learned later - was pain and dying. Dying in pain, reviving to pain. Screaming until my throat bled. Smelling my blood, my own burning flesh. Tasting bile as my body protested in the only way it could its disgust at the abuse. In between the torture, Caspian fucked me, but I did not take it personally - the man would literally fuck a knot in wood. Like Kronos, he was led by his cock. Unlike Kronos, he could see past its demands. I never bothered to ask Caspian why he was doing this - I knew. He liked it, he disliked me, I had left the Horsemen, and he was bored. He never needed a real reason. My only point of wonder, one which was rapidly beaten, cut and raped out of me, was that he had bothered to drag me all the way from Germany to play his games, when he had Duncan so close - or Cassandra, for that matter. The witch was not an impossible target. Vaguely, I thought Caspian was up to something. I had other things on my mind.

To my sorrow, Duncan's big heart could not stand the sight of me or the sound of my agonies any longer, and he gave his mouth to Caspian's filthiness to save me, despite my protest. When back in his room, and I had recovered enough to pay any attention to my surroundings, had swallowed enough water to speak, I realised Duncan was crying silent tears as he wiped me down, only a little less gently than normal. I knew it was likely he had performed fellatio before, living with soldiers as he had - but from his reaction, it was obvious he had never done it under duress, as near as dammit to rape, nor seen someone else be raped before. His pride, his self-image, even his sense of Catholic morality was all severely abused, and I had to work hard to soothe him at all. The Highlander was close to breaking, I could tell. Watching me suffer, suffering himself, tying himself up in pointless knots over my wicked past - he was too young to be sanguine, and too good a man to ignore the pain of others, even if it was long in the past.

A day's blessed grace. Even knowing Caspian's motives, it was as close to pure happiness as I had been allowed since I had been taken from Heidelberg. Duncan gave me rest, food, a delicious bath - and more than that, his devotion and his love. I felt giddy from more than the after effects of Caspian's ill-treatment. Duncan surrounded my senses - he had a body that was a feast for the eyes, and a mind able to feed my hunger for beauty and life. A warrior capable of such gentleness that it made me literally weep, and brave enough to stand up to the likes of Caspian. I vowed that if our situation ever allowed it, I would make this man free. It was unthinkable that he should be a slave for all his long life.

We did not get a whole day. Just after noon a fire broke out and Duncan had to race to help the household put it out. He left the door unlocked but I felt no temptation to leave - where on earth would I go, crippled and maimed as I was? I lay on his bed, dozing a little, still exhausted from my ordeal. Not long after the Highlander left, the door opened. "Well, well, well," Caspian mocked. "Does her ladyship know about this? Duncan's been a naughty boy, hasn't he?"

Despite myself, I found myself cringing back on the bed. "It's nothing to do with him, he doesn't know," I lied, my heart thumping with fear and shock at my brother's sudden reappearance. My unbound hands belied my words. Caspian was no fool - he would be able to tell by looking at me I had been well treated. He dragged me off the bed by my hair and quickly chained my wrists and feet. I did not waste breath protesting but he prodded me at knifepoint anyway out of the room and up the back stairs.

I realised we were going to Cassandra's room but to my surprise he opened a hidden door and dragged me up a narrow staircase to the roof space. Caspian had been busy, I saw - preparing for my arrival, it seemed.

"Stables not good enough for you, Caspian? I'd have thought you should be right at home with the animals and the shit."

He grinned at me, a bad sign, and did not rise to the bait, a worse sign still. He made me kneel.

"Got something special planned for you, brother. And your pretty Scot."

No, not Duncan! "You know I will kill you, Caspian, when I ever get free, and you know I will get free." Empty words he no doubt thought. I meant every one of them.

"I'm trembling with fear, Methos," he sneered, then yanked me backwards suddenly so I sprawled on the floor. He sat on my chest. "That headpiece really is coming loose."

"Can I help it if I'm losing weight, Caspian?" One of these centuries I really will learn to keep my stupid mouth shut.

He grinned again and reached for me. I struggled hard but he had the superior position and all he had to do was smash me across the jaw to daze me in order to seize my head. He produced a kind of key and tightened the band across my forehead, and suddenly it felt like my brain was being squeezed out my nostrils. I screamed my agony and tried to buck him off. He stabbed me through my shoulder, pinning me down.

"Stay still, you slippery bastard!" Even though I fought as much as I could, he managed to tighten the whole thing so much my vision blackened, and my world contracted to the pain in my head. All I could do was scream in a futile attempt to relieve the pain. I wished desperately for a distraction - any distraction.

I was not sure how long I was left like that - it felt like days. The first clear memory I had was of water being splashed in my face, and trying to scream out of a raw throat before being manhandled and the pain shifting to another kind altogether, before stopping. Dimly, I realised that the cradle was gone, and that there was another Immortal presence in the room. Duncan?

I was dragged to sit by a wall. "Duncan?" I whispered.

"Here,  _mo cridhe_." I could have cried for relief.

I love you too, I told him which got me a slap, but I did not care. I told Caspian to kiss my arse but the pig did not understand the words. I was still very dazed but Caspian's grunting and the sound of harsh panting broke through my confusion. My vision was only slowly returning to normal, but I realised that Caspian was having Duncan again. Worse followed, as my dear brother humiliated Duncan by making me watch my lover's rape. Well, he tried to - I closed my eyes. Finally the filthy deed was done, and Caspian left us to deal with the aftermath of his actions.

Duncan tried to put a brave face on it, getting me away safely to his room, and insisting on washing the traces of Caspian's cruelty off our bodies. The only difficulty was the mortal, Dawson, who was being singularly stupid in trying to make Duncan talk about his experiences - I sent him away with a flea in his ear. Then I had my Highlander to myself. I claimed him the only way I could that would take away some of the pain of what Caspian had done, by making love to him with kindness and gentleness, letting him cry out his anguish and by holding him.

It was a bitter irony that we had that interlude of tenderness. Early next morning, we were summoned by Dawson to the courtyard, and for everyone in Cassandra's keep, life as they had known it for an age came to an abrupt and painful end.

 

* * *

Kronos. Time froze, and in that endlessly prolonged moment I understood many things. I understood what Caspian had been playing at, and that Cassandra and I were just pawns in his game. I understood that I would have but two choices in the next minute - join the Horsemen again, or die. I understood that to protect my sweet Highlander, I was going to have to hurt him deeply, even make him hate me. If I failed, he would lose his head. And I understood that if I did not wipe the look of shock of my face  _now_  and school my features and demeanour into one of warm welcome, I and Duncan and likely the rest of the slaves were going to be destroyed.

Kronos got off his horse, and I found I could move at last. He kissed me like a lover. Body memory took over, thank the gods, and I was able to return it in like kind. Caspian's greeting confirmed my suspicions about what he had been up to. As I feared, Kronos' attention was immediately drawn to the new Immortal among us. I had to fight hard to pretend enough indifference to Duncan's fate to keep Kronos from being suspicious, but to show enough desire for his body that Kronos, cock slave that he was, would understand why I wanted him alive. I had to ignore the deep hurt in Duncan's brown eyes as I betrayed and humiliated him, and my hands shook as I tore the clothes from his body. Forgive me, I pleaded silently. Kronos licked his lips as the Highlander's body was exposed - a more telling argument for keeping the man as my slave I could not have come up with.

And then there was poor, mad Cassandra to deal with. Duncan's eyes accused me as I dragged her off to be killed - I had good cause to hate her, but I did not kill her in anger. Duncan would never understand but I did it from mercy - Cassandra would rather die than be the toy of the Horsemen again, and I remembered all too vividly how females were treated under their thrall. How  _I_  had treated female slaves, and the gods knew, I was hardly the worst of the four. Her Quickening hurt like hell - her madness, her hatred of me, her grief at losing her life to those she loathed, swamped me until I could not stand. Duncan offered me a hand under duress, and I was pathetic enough to be grateful for it, even though his disgust at me was obvious. I prayed for time and understanding, but for now, Duncan had to be subdued and broken to the leash which Caspian, ever eager, was now affixing around that proud neck. The Highlander had already come very close to losing his head at Kronos' hands, and I watched anxiously as he took his new place behind me at the table. The food was like dust, but I ate anyway - to do other was to arouse suspicion and above all, my imperative was to survive. Not only because such was my nature, but it was also because it was the only way to protect Duncan and the others. If they came to hate me, despise me in the process, well they, and I, would survive that.

Duncan passed the first major test when Silas put scraps before him and he ate, but the haughty look with which he surreptitiously pushed the plate aside when attention was off him was like to get him killed if Kronos saw it. I worked hard to ensure Kronos was fully occupied with me or with the others, and fortunately Duncan restrained himself. I cursed the Fates which had meant that Duncan and I had shared so tender a night before this morning - the contrast was painful for me, and it was killing him, I saw that in his every glance at me. Why did the Gods have to put such a lovely naïf in my path?

Kronos made his judgement on Duncan's disobedience - a hundred lashes with a wire flail. My hands were clenched under the table but I pretended that I thought it only fair. Gods - how would the Highlander cope? That he had been beaten before was a given, but never so brutally and so unjustly. His crime was kindness - mine was allowing it, then revealing it, and my punishment would be to administer the whipping myself when the time came.

At long last I could make my excuses, and get Duncan alone. His rage was huge - too great to break through, and he was incapable of understanding my motives. I was too angry myself, too unsettled and shocked to be patient with him, and we did not have time - Kronos could easily demand Duncan's services at any time, even at this very moment, and if Duncan faced off Kronos as he was doing to me, the Highlander would be dead very quickly indeed. I gave my love some very harsh lessons in obedience, already resigned to losing his affection, but refusing to lose his existence. Oh, Duncan - don't look at me like that! Can't you see? It was so easy - too easy - for him to believe this was really me, because of Cassandra, and in truth, once it was me. But such a long time ago, Highlander! Don't you believe in redemption? Don't you believe people change?

I could not stand it any longer, and sent him away to rest in solitude, to reconcile his new position and the change in his life with his pride. I rested my head on my arms, weary still despite the nap. My wrists still ached with phantom pain although they were healed - I still had trouble believing how things had changed since I woke this morning. Kronos came in without knocking, ebullient and apparently delighted to see me.

"It has been a very long time, brother," he said, embracing me and taking a seat.

"Indeed, Kronos. I thought you were all dead - it was a shock to see Caspian again, I can tell you."

"So what happened after that earthquake?"

"I was buried for a hundred years so far as I could make out." An earthquake had struck in the Caucasus Mountains while we were raiding.

"And you got out how?"

"Another earthquake, would you believe? When I got free, everything was gone - you were all gone, the village was gone. I had a job to find a horse and food, I can tell you."

He believed me, I was sure - it was the literal truth, after all. I was still haunted by memories of that time. He clapped his hands. "Well, that's all behind us, brother, and now we are four again. Just like it was meant to be." He caressed my cheek. "You are very thin, Methos. Cassandra?"

"And brother Caspian, of course. I look forward to repaying the favour one day."

He shook his head and laughed. "You and he, like poison, you always were. We need him, Methos, just as I need you."

"It's the only reason I ever put up with him, brother," I said steadily. Not even for Kronos would I pretend to like our resident psychopath.

Kronos stood. "I'll keep him out of your way, brother. This is a rich spoil, but I suppose you know that."

"Yes - and one I would advise you to keep. You can leave it to me to run, I know how boring you find it."

"Become fond of managing things in your old age, Methos?"

"Well, brother, I admit to becoming a little more sedate, yes. I like my comforts."

He roared with laughter. "You always did. You and your body slaves - who can be bothered training them? That Scot - you sure he won't be a problem?"

"No, brother. If Cassandra could handle him, I am sure he won't be beyond me. And think of the side benefits," I leered deliberately.

He laughed again. "You are a good judge of that as well, brother. I had better go and see what our men are up to. I will see you at dinner, Methos."

"Yes, brother."

When he left, I groaned. I had spent centuries avoiding men like Kronos - men who hated intellect, beauty, happiness. Men whose only pleasure in loveliness was to destroy it, and who could not see peace without wanting to create war. I had, for a long time, pretended to myself that I could be with men like him but not of them, but once I was free of him, I realised how badly infected by his attitudes I had become. I deliberately surrounded myself with scholars, poets, artists, immersed myself in reading - took delight in activities I knew my former companions would loathe or at least not comprehend - all in an effort to prove how different I was from them. And here I was, back exactly where I was two thousand years ago - a lap dog to Kronos, and a conspirator in his evil. At least Duncan had the consolation of knowing change had been thrust upon him - I could not really say that I did not deserve this.

I let Duncan stay away from me until supper - as much for my peace of mind as his - but the time came for the evening meal and what was to follow all too soon. It was a shock to see him again in his newly naked state - I could well imagine how my proud Highlander hated being without clothes, but if it reminded him of his position, all to the good. I pretended an indifference to his presence, and that of the whipping post, that I certainly did not feel, and I was pleased, and surprised, how calm and collected Duncan appeared outwardly. Only an unnatural stillness, and a slight paleness of his olive complexion betrayed his feelings, and he did not so much as twitch when my dear brother Caspian took out his temper on a poor serving wench. Caspian did it as much to anger me as anything - he knew well how much I disliked his random killing, especially of servants who had no means of defending themselves.

I don't remember much else about that meal - I was so conscious of Duncan's presence, and of the flogging to come that nothing else seemed to register. But finally Kronos announced it was to begin, and I was able to convince him to let me do it. Duncan saw this as yet another betrayal, I could tell from his eyes and the way he held himself, and who was to say he was wrong? If only Caspian had chosen another weapon - but I knew why he had chosen the one that Cassandra had used on me quite deliberately. There could be no gentleness with a flail, no way of pulling a stroke that would not be immediately obvious. The only way was to do it fast, and hope that Duncan would lose himself enough in the pain that the difference between fifty or a hundred strokes would mean nothing to him. I was being watched carefully, I knew that too. I raised my hand and struck.

From that moment, until Kronos clapped me on the back and shouted, "Wine for my strong-armed brother!" I do not recall anything about the flogging. I looked about - Duncan was gone, but that was his blood on the floor, and on my shirt. I shook and wanted to be sick - I realised that Death had taken over for me. What had I done? - or what had  _he_  done? I had to see Duncan. First, I made myself drink the wine Kronos gave me, and let him join me in some mild repartee about my 'abilities'.

"Are you all right, brother? You do not look well?"

Concern from Kronos? A most dangerous thing. "I am fine, brother - handling slaves does tend to sully one, though, don't you find? I would like to change. Perhaps you could excuse me for the evening."

He narrowed his eyes, assessing my words, and I forced myself to look slightly bored. Then he smiled. "As you like, brother. It's been a momentous day for you, has it not?"

"Indeed, Kronos. A life-changing one in many ways. Let me refresh myself - I will be in a better state to assist you tomorrow."

"I hope that will be true, Methos. We need your brain." He slapped my shoulder again, and I was free to go.

Dawson had left Duncan by the fire. The Highlander was in a pitiable state, shivering and mumbling to himself. His hair hung around his face, damp and sweaty, and he was running a fever as his body fought to repair the damage I had inflicted. All his physical wounds had healed, more or less, but the shock of such a vicious beating also affects the mind, I knew all too well. He let me take him to my bed and hold him - he would hate me in the morning, but for now, I could only offer the thin comfort of my presence.

 

* * *

  
I was right - he did hate me. Then, and later. I got more understanding from Dawson, veteran and world weary man that he was, but I could not, as Duncan bitterly pointed out, beat him half to death and not expect to lose any semblance of affection from him. It did not stop me teaching the Scot what he had to learn, and quickly, to survive.

It was a travesty of what I wanted to do with Duncan, teaching him how to endure the realities of male sex, and how to please the animals I called brothers. His beautiful face was tense and unhappy as I announced that we could not delay this any longer - Kronos had been in the castle a week, and his curiosity was already dangerously piqued by my retention of the highlander as a body slave. If Duncan refused to accept Kronos' attentions, or fought him, he would be dead - and that, I could not allow.

I gave him wine, to help him relax - I wanted this first time at least to be not too intolerable, but it was clear that he had no intentions of enjoying what was, so far as he was concerned, nothing but a form of rape.

"Duncan, please - this is for your benefit."

"I know that, Methos," he said gruffly. "Just don't expect me to like it."

I stroked his cheek and he flinched. I sighed. "Lesson number one, highlander. Do not  _ever_ move away if anyone touches you. You exist purely to serve their desires - you have none of your own. Understand? You don't come unless they say, you come when they tell you to, and you do not object to anything that is asked of you." He glared at me. I decided to persist. "Apart from me, have you made love to a man before, Duncan?"

He blushed beet-red. "That's none..."

I cut him off angrily. "Stop it! Duncan - you must forget you are a man for tonight. You are a possession, a toy - a tool. Your feelings will mean less than nothing to Kronos, and if you retort like that to him, he will kill you very slowly, painfully and ultimately permanently. Do you want that?"

"If I said I did, what difference does it make?" he said dully.

We had had this argument before, and I had had enough of it. I got my sword and held it against his neck - he backed away from the blade but I followed him. "You want to die, MacLeod? Really? So why should I let Kronos have your Quickening? On your knees, boy!" I pushed him back.

"Methos!" he said hoarsely. "Don't!"

"Changed your mind?"

"I don't want to die!" he cried out.

Finally. I threw the sword away and hauled him up by his hair, shaking him roughly. "Then if you want to live, you live by  _my_  rules, you do what  _I_  say, Duncan, or I swear by all that you hold holy, I will take your head. Now, answer the bloody question!"

"One man," he said quickly, obviously alarmed by my temper.

"What did you do together?" He was embarrassed, and I took pity on him. "What Caspian made you do, you've done that?"

"Yes," he whispered.

"Duncan, it's all right," I said softly, realising suddenly what the problem was. "I know the Church says it is a sin, but the greater sin is suicide, and that is what you are avoiding. It's a necessary evil."

"It wasn't with you," he replied, eyes cast to the ground.

I touched his face again, and this time he did not flinch. "No, that was love. I meant it, Duncan - I still do. But I will not force you to do that again - at least, not for my own gratification. Unfortunately, there are things you have to learn, for if you fail to please Kronos, he will kill you. He has a very low tolerance of incompetence in the bedroom, and as I am supposed to have trained you, he will be very suspicious." He nodded, and I felt at last I had got through to him. "Kneel down, and unlace my breeches." He did so, and looked at my cock like it was a piece of ordure. "Duncan, please try and hide your feelings. Am I really so repellent?"

"No, Methos - I ... was just remembering..."

I tilted his head to me. "I'm not Caspian, heart."

"I know, " he said quietly. Without my telling him, he took me in his mouth. I encouraged him, telling what felt good, what not, but in my soul I felt sick - I had dreamed of Duncan doing this willingly, but I knew he hated it with every fibre of his being. I forced myself to concentrate on the sensations of his lovely mouth, so that I could bring myself to orgasm. Finally I spilled, and he choked.

"You have to swallow, lad, and look as if you mean it." He forced my come down, his mouth clamped tight. I pulled him close against me. "I'm sorry, Duncan," I whispered. "I'm really so sorry."

He sat back and his eyes were wet. "Why does it have to be this way?" he said, sounding hurt, and strangely young.

"Pretend it is not, if it helps, Duncan. Pretend you are doing it for someone you care about." Not me, I added silently. "Have some wine, clean your mouth." He drank and I stroked his hair. "You did well, Highlander. Kronos won't complain if you repeat that for him."

He pulled away. "Will you fuck me too?"

His words and his flat tone stung me. "No, I won't - you already know it hurts when you are not prepared, and you will not be given any preparation by any of them. I can't inflict that on you."

"Does it have to hurt?"

"No, heart, it does not. One day I will show you." He nodded, and I could see he wanted to ask me something. "What, Duncan?"

"Would you ... let me take you one day? Fuck you, I mean."

His question took my breath away. I stood up, and he flinched, afraid I would strike him for his audacity, but I stripped off my boots and breeches, then took off my shirt so I was naked before him.

"Does that answer your question? Only lock the door so Kronos does not walk in on us."

His eyes widened in shock. "Methos...."

"Come on, Duncan. Turnabout is fair play, and there is nothing you can do that I will refuse."

He stood up. "You're serious, " he said wonderingly.

"Completely. Lock the door."

He complied and returned to me.

"I don't love you," he said flatly.

"I know." We looked at each other. Frankly, I did not know what his motives were - if fucking me gave him any sort of peace, then he could do it to punish me, I cared not. "There is some oil - in the bottle there. Use it on me, and on yourself."

"Bend over the bed," he said hoarsely, and I obeyed, spreading my legs to make things easier for him. It was hard to breathe, waiting for him to decide if he could carry through with this, but at last I felt him touch me.

"Use your fingers, Duncan. Stretch and oil me, it will be easier for both of us." He took so long, I thought he changed his mind. "Duncan ...?" Then his finger pierced me, and I bit back a yelp. I made myself stay quiet as his thick fingers played in me.

"Enough?" he asked.

"Yes, if you are ready." His bluntness was at my hole, pushing, and I fisted the blankets. "Go on, Duncan."

He thrust hard, and cried out. It hurt, there was no doubt, and he showed no finesse though I would cut my arm off rather than criticise his technique. He did not move. "It's all right, Duncan. It's like with a woman, just tighter." I remembered belatedly that I had not asked if he had ever lain with a woman - I had assumed so, but perhaps he was very inexperienced. He thrust again, and then again, harder. I grabbed the bed and held on. It really was painful, and he had not the skill to make it pleasurable.

He did not take long to come, and he pulled out quickly, which stung. I turned around slowly, hiding my feelings. He was already searching for a cloth to wipe himself with, and refusing to meet my look. "Duncan?"

"Leave me alone, Methos," he said harshly. He cleaned himself quickly and put his meagre loincloth on.

"Duncan - it wasn't rape." He stiffened and met my eyes finally. "I wanted it."

He shook his head, but at who or what, I did not know. "I ... want to go downstairs. May I?" he asked. I nodded and he left the room like the hounds of hell were after him. I knelt by the fireplace for a long time, staring into the flames. I was sure that what had just happened had just made things worse - for both of us.

 

* * *

Kronos took longer than I thought he would to claim Duncan, but the day finally came. Looking at my Highlander's pale and worried face, I wished there was a way of relieving him of the duty, but all I could do was warn him as best I could. Kronos forced a young girl to attend me, which I could have done without. I watched Kronos as Duncan leave the hall, my heart in my mouth, praying the Scot would remember what I had so painfully taught him. "My lord, what is your wish?" my new slave asked timidly.

"Follow me," I said curtly. Kronos would find out if I sent the child away. In my room, she knelt obediently and waited for my command. "What is your name, girl?"

"Maya, my lord."

"Maya, undress me, and then prepare the bath." Her hands shook as she pulled at my clothes. I took her chin. "Have you done this before, Maya?

"N...no, my lord."

"It's all right, child - I will not beat you if you are clumsy, only if you are malicious."

I waited patiently, and she grew more confident. She blushed when I was naked, and I wished I had not ordered her to do this, but it was too late now. She poured the bath, and I let her wash me, trying to make this as quick and painless as possible. I dried myself - the idea of this sweet girl handling my privates revolted me.

"Where do you wish me to sleep, lord?"

In the kitchen, I thought. "Across the foot of my bed, Maya. Put out the lamp."

I could not sleep for a long time, worrying about what was happening on the floor above. I was certain I heard a scream at one point, and I clenched my fists in impotent anger. But sleep did come, only to be broken by a gentle shaking of my shoulders. I seized the attacker by their throat. I realised to my horror I was holding my reluctant slave by her thin neck, and was throttling her. I let her go and seized her shoulders instead, shaking her. "What are you doing!"

"My lord," Maya gasped out. "You were shouting."

I let her go, and bid her light the lamp again. I sat up, rubbing my face. "Are you injured, girl?"

"Not ... no, master." Her whisper made it clear that she was.

"Show me, Maya," and she showed me the red marks on her throat. "I am sorry - you should not wake someone from a nightmare like that. Take a cool cloth and hold it against your neck." The child was lucky my sword was not at hand - I had once killed a servant accidentally in just such a fashion. "Go and sleep by the fire, and for your own sake, do not approach me again while I sleep. Do you understand?"

She nodded, and I turned away from her. I did not sleep - did not dare to sleep - the rest of the night.

I deliberately sent her for my breakfast late, and questioned her about what she had heard of Duncan in the kitchen. "Master Dawson said he came down earlier in a terrible state, my lord. Covered in blood, and very weak."

Gods. I hid my concern. "Thank you, Maya. Please take these, and attend to your own breakfast. I will call you later."

What had my bastard brother done to Duncan? The trouble was, I knew only too well how vast, and loathsome, the possibilities were. Had he not inflicted such on me, more times than I could count?

I waited near the door all morning, until I felt a Presence moving down the stairs, then left my bedroom casually. I came to the stairwell just in time to see Duncan stumble hard, dropping the tray he carried. I rushed to help him, praying that Kronos - or worse, Caspian - would not hear. He looked appalling, dazed, and in pain - I don't think he knew I was truly there. We picked up the clutter and he staggered off - how could Kronos have done this to him in a bare twelve hours?

My concern overrode my good sense, and when Kronos left my chamber after lunch to ride out with Dawson, I stole into his room. Duncan was crouched before the fireplace, shivering from tension and pain - that bloody leather band! He worried about me being there, but all I could think of was how wretched he looked. It was partly my fault, I discovered, and cursed myself for not warning Duncan to grease himself. But then, Kronos was as likely to have punished him for his presumption as for not being prepared - Kronos needed very little excuse to hurt slaves, I knew that all too well. All in all, Duncan was doing as well as I could have hoped, and I was gratified by his willingness to endure. He had borne Caspian's cruelty - and mine - so Kronos was just more of the same, if a little more inventive and humiliating. There was good blood in the child, no doubt about it.

That night Maya slept by the fire, and made no comment about my dreams, if such I had. I would have had her in my bed in former times, but my experience with the slave Silas had given me in his mistaken attempt at a gift, had put me off contacts with the female members of the household. Pity, I could have done with the comfort of Maya's simple kindness which she showed even to such as me. Again I wondered at the calibre of Cassandra's slaves, and the carelessness with which she had treated her treasures. Poor, deluded witch.

By lunchtime, I could contain my anxiety no more, and after a meal I barely touched, I strolled into Kronos' room. "How goes it, brother?"

He was in a foul mood, I could see - his scar darkened when he was irritable or angry. "Bah, brother - that slave of yours is a bloody nuisance. I wonder you don't cut his throat."

"How has he offended you, brother?" I pretended concern while inside my guts turned to ice.

"I nearly tore my cock off in the bastard's dry arse, and today he comes to me stinking like a fucking midden!"

"My apologies, brother. I will punish him for his insolence, and see he does not repeat the errors."

"You should cut his damn head off and be done with it!"

"Surely it doesn't need to come to that, Kronos?" I said, putting a seductive twist in my voice. If I did not play this right, Duncan could die.

Kronos gave me a calculating look and stood up.

"You could make it up to me, Methos." He came over and stood close to me. I ran my hand down his chest, over his erection.

"That I could, brother. Would you like that?" I purred.

"Fuck ... Methos ... it's been so long ..." he said huskily, pushing into my hand.

I knelt. "That it has, brother." I undid his breeches. The man was hung like an ox, and it was questionable whether it was worse to have him in my arse or my mouth. I took him in and began to work the massive cock. His hands clutched at my hair, tugging it sharply. I let the pain distract me from what I was doing - what I hoped never to do again. He came in a great spurt and a thrust, nearly gagging me.

"Gods, Methos!" He pulled me upright and kissed me, probing with his tongue and looking for the taste of himself. "You are still the best fuck I ever had, brother. If this is how you plan to compensate me for poorly behaved slaves, I hope they all run riot!"

I prevented an instinctive shudder. "I don't think we need to go  _quite_  that far, Kronos."

He kissed me again then slapped my arse. "Keep your slave, brother, but make him wash occasionally."

"As you wish, Kronos." I made a mock bow and escaped back to my room.

I hooked the chamber pot out from under the bed, and putting a finger down my throat, made myself vomit up the man's essence. I washed my mouth out with water and with wine before summoning Maya to send Duncan to me. I did not want to meet my love with Kronos' taste on my breath.

 

* * *

I thought I was dealing well with Kronos - things were peaceful, the servants no more terrorised than normal - but I had forgotten the berserker under the pretended semi-civilised exterior. In the end it was Duncan who saved the others from the brunt of Kronos' blood rage, saved Dawson from being frozen to death, but at what cost? Nailed to a wall, used as a target like a thing, not a human. I came so very close to trying to kill Kronos that night - the knife through my hand courtesy of dear Caspian broke through my calm facade like it had never existed. A protest to Kronos to leave my slave be, nearly got my head cut off. All I could do was watch as Duncan was tormented, and finally deliver him to a merciful release with an apparently misaimed knife throw. Kronos made mock of me for that, and left Duncan hanging on the wall for another two hours before drinking himself into unconsciousness.

It was well after midnight before I could slip away and find the young lad, Richard, to help me carry Duncan back to my room. The cruel punishment and the blood loss took its toll on a body already diminished by a reduced diet, and he mumbled and yelled softly in his sleep most of the night. In the morning he woke much later than usual, by my design, still looking pale and very tired. I soothed him and fed him, and then we had to decide what to do. Kronos was becoming obsessed with Duncan, I saw all the signs, and I knew from bitter experience that nothing would do but to let him wear it out. I appealed to Duncan's bravery, and his concern for his 'clan' - shameful of me, I well knew, but everything we did was a waiting game. If we could just get through until Kronos left on his raids....

We nearly succeeded. I say 'we', but it was Duncan who carried the burden entirely, while I watched helplessly. Caspian, always playing to Kronos' worst instincts and desires, made my love suffer cruelly every night for the sake of entertainment. And every night, I took an increasingly distraught and weary Highlander to bed, holding him close and trying as much as I could to offer him strength, and find a way for him to escape. For it could not go on - that it went on for nearly two months was astonishing. I began a highly surreptitious negotiation with the charcoal burner, Samson, who had struck me as a man playing a role much as I was. Dawson conveyed messages back and forth, slowly, and in snatches, until I was almost ready to help Duncan leave. My Scot's brave heart gave out just as plans were finished, which was a small mercy amongst all the viciousness. Caspian outdid himself that night - fucking the Highlander with knife and cock, and the others raping his mouth. I saw from the moment Caspian stabbed him that Duncan had reached the end of his frayed rope - his eyes became wild, and he trembled and shook continuously. I had to intervene before he said or did something to endanger us all, and Kronos' malicious invitation to take my slave publicly gave me the chance to kill Duncan mercifully. Kronos suspected me, and I had to work hard to soothe him, plying him with gold and with wine as the Highlander's corpse lay impaled, bleeding and odiferous next to us. I persuaded Kronos to come to his room, where I let him take me as he would, before he passed out and I could send Richard and Dawson down to collect Duncan.

My love was quite out of his mind, and he went wild on the stairs, sending the boy crashing away and half-wrenching himself out of Dawson's grip before I managed to get him under control. I could feel how he shook, and he muttered piteously to himself. As the door shut, he pulled himself away and hid next to the bed like a frightened child.

"Oh my God, " Dawson said in anguish. "He's gone mad." The mortal's kind grey eyes were full of tears.

"I will look after him ...." I started to say, but I was interrupted as Duncan began to shout in terror. I crouched next to him, "Quiet, love," I said, stroking his hair. He looked at me wildly, but I do not think he saw me. "Hush, Duncan, thou art safe."

"Methos, kill me, please, if you love me. I cannae stand it any more."

"No, heart, calm yourself ...."

"I'll make Kronos do it! He'll kill me!" He surged up, and only the combined weights of Dawson and myself held him down. He collapsed in on himself and curled into a ball, weeping.

"Joseph, in the desk, on the left side, there is a leather pouch. Pinch a piece of the stuff off - about the size of a finger tip, and stir it into a cup of wine. Bring it here - and hurry, man." Kronos had given me some opium, not that I shared his liking for the stuff, but I had kept it, thinking it might be useful. I was glad of it now. Dawson handed me the cup, and I held it to Duncan's lips. He refused it at first. "Drink it, heart, it will help the pain."

"Methos?" He looked at me with eyes that were doe-like in his agony. I stroked back the hair that had fallen all over his face.

"It's all right," I said softly. "Just drink this." He sipped cautiously, but then gulped it down - he would be thirsty from all the blood he had lost. Dawson handed me a blanket and I cocooned Duncan in it, holding him close.

Dawson knelt down. "He cannot endure this any more."

"I know, I know. But for now ..."

Duncan suddenly thrashed, pushing me back and flinging his arms about. "Nooo! Please, Methos, I can't. No more, no more." He wept until I thought my heart would crack from the sound. He curled up again, and I got the blanket back around him.

"Come back in the morning, Dawson," I whispered, trying not to rouse the anguish again. He nodded and crept out. Under my hands, Duncan shook and sobbed convulsively. "Hush,  _mo cridhe_. Thou art safe, thou art my beloved, Duncan. Hush."

I rocked him, and whispered to him, as if he were an infant, not a man over a hundred years old, but that was what he had been reduced to by the Horsemen. Gradually his exhaustion and the drug took their effect, and he quietened, to my intense relief. It was time, I decided, even if Kronos had not worn out his fascination with hurting my Highland child. Duncan had been stretched too thin for too long, and if he did not go now, there would be nothing left of him to save.

I fell asleep too, and was stiff and sore when Dawson's quiet knock woke me. I unwrapped myself from Duncan who still slept solidly and let the senior slave in. "He's still asleep," I whispered, grateful that the man had brought hot water and cloths with him. Richard had sluiced the Highlander off roughly last night, but he still stank of blood and worse, which would offend him, I well knew. "Help me lift him to the bed."

Even having lost so much weight, the man was still heavy. Amazingly, he did not wake even for a moment. I took off the soiled loincloth, and began to wipe him down, forgetting about Dawson's presence until he coughed. "Oh, Joseph - I'm sorry. Please, could you bring me some breakfast? I will sit with him today."

"What about milord Kronos?" he asked diffidently.

"Oh bugger Kronos!" Dawson was startled by my outburst. "Come up later this morning, and I'll go see him. I don't want Duncan left alone for a second." He turned to leave. "Bring some wine, Dawson - I want to keep him drugged as long as I can."

He nodded and left. I turned back to my task of cleaning the Highlander's body. How I craved the feel of this beautiful man - I could never understand how Kronos could see something so wondrous and only want to break it. I sighed, remembering the all too brief occasions when I had seen Duncan's skin flushed and rosy with passion - now it was only red from beatings, or from being bloodied. It was time, past time, for him to go.

I covered him up, noting how he still shivered in his sleep, murmuring words in Gaelic occasionally. He stirred a little at Dawson's return, but I mixed up the drugged wine, helping him sip it, and he slipped easily back into deep sleep. He was hot, so I kept wiping his forehead, not so much for the healing powers of such an action, but for the soothing feeling I hoped it would give him even in his sleep.

Dawson came back a couple of hours later, and reported that Kronos had ordered food. It was time for me to distract my unpleasant brother. Dawson took my place beside the bed, and I washed and dressed with care before going to Kronos' room. He was in a bad mood once again - his head ached from the drink.

"Brother, I can help you with that," I said smoothly, and made him sit so I could massage his head. My experience as a doctor, and before that, many years as a body slave, helped me ease the pain in his head.

He moaned. "Magic hands, Methos. How I missed them."

"And I the pleasure of touching you," I lied, hating myself for saying it, then I kissed the back of his neck.

He twisted to look at me. I kissed him again, on the lips. He pushed me away. "You're unusually affectionate this morning, Methos. What's got into you?"

"I was hoping you would, brother."

His eyes widened, and he pushed me back, lying over me on the bed. I could feel his insistent hardness. "Your Scot doesn't keep you warm, brother?"

"Do you think I would let a slave have me, Kronos? How low do you think I have sunk?" I trailed my fingers around his neck, and he caught them and kissed them.

"Not that low, I confess." His hand fumbled at my breeches, but then there was a knock at the door. He growled with anger. "Who is it!" he barked.

"Bernd, Herr Kronos, " his captain called.

"I'm busy, Bernd," he shouted. His hands were certainly busy.

" _Entshuldigung, wenn ich störe..._ " Kronos swore and got off the bed.

"Fuck. I'd better go ... but I will see you later, brother," he said crossly.

"Indeed."

I waited until Kronos had left before retying my breeches and making my way back to my own room. Dawson was wiping Duncan's forehead.

"How is he?" I asked, swapping places with the overseer.

"He's having nightmares, and sweating like a pig." The mortal was sorely worried.

"It's the drug, partly. He'll be all right, especially if I can get him away soon. Samson is expecting him anytime, yes?"

"Yes - he's laid a trail, and Duncan has only to come to him."

"I'll speak to MacLeod soon. Come back an hour before the meal, Dawson."

"Will you want lunch, my lord?"

"No - leave us, Joseph." I dismissed the overseer, locked the door behind him, and climbed onto the bed next to Duncan. He was very restless, as Dawson said. My name, Kronos' name, someone called Debra, and his father were called or mumbled about. I prayed he would wake with a clearer mind. He was too rigid, my lovely Scot - he endured past the point of sanity, but then collapsed all at once through his fear of showing weakness. Perhaps I could ... no, there was no more time for me to teach him. He must go, and it was I who would have to endure.

I slept a little, waking when he did, and giving him more of the wine. I fancied his sleep became a little easier by the time Dawson came to relieve me. I left the two there with instructions on how to play act a punishment upon Duncan - Kronos would be coming to my room if I handled things correctly, and I hoped Duncan could be dismissed for another night of peace.

Things went as I planned. Kronos could not keep his hands off me at supper, and I encouraged him shamelessly. He invited himself back to sleep with me. Fortunately Duncan was too dazed to understand what was happening, and I got rid of him as quickly as I dared. Kronos pounced, pulling me to the floor. "Brother, brother, there is a bed," I teased.

"Getting soft, Methos? You were tougher than that once."

"Old bones, Kronos," I said playfully but he did not let me rise.

He traced my jaw. "I missed you, Methos."

"So you said, brother," I said evenly. The sudden predatory look in his eyes had me worried.

"Not... just you, Methos ... what we had..."

Are you serious, I thought? What we  _had_?I nearly laughed in disbelief.

"We were together a long time," I hedged.

"You were  _mine_ , Methos," he growled, and I shivered. "Body and soul. I owned you. Every sound you made, every feeling you had, I gave you."

Never! My mind screamed, but I forced myself to smile. "True, brother. You miss that?"

"I  _dream_  about it, Methos. For over a thousand years, I have longed to call you mine again." Despite myself, I began to try and move out from under him, but he stopped me. "I don't want to enslave you, brother."

"Oh, good, Kronos ... I've had too much of that recently."

"I know," he whispered, licking my cheek. "But perhaps..."

"We could pretend ... for tonight?" I had guessed correctly.

He smiled ferally. "That would please me greatly, Methos."

"And so that would please me, Kronos." I looked at him from under my eyelashes submissively. "What would my master have me do?"

He leaned back off me, and knelt, looking at me. "Take your clothes off, slave."

I rose slowly. Gods, this was something I swore I would never do again. Duncan MacLeod, if I did not owe you so very much ....

I stripped slowly, as he liked, then knelt at his feet where he had moved to the chair. He put his booted foot at my chest and I pulled the shoe off, repeating it with the other. "Master?" I asked, wanting to know his command.

"Unlace my breeches - with your mouth, Methos."

I kept my hands by my side, as the game demanded - I had been patiently taught by him, and by others like him, with whips and blows, how to do this. I tugged at the laces, letting my teeth graze over his erection from time to time, nudging the flap aside and taking him in my mouth. He only let me suck for a little while before he seized my head and pounded into me hard, my mouth and throat a passive receptacle for his lust. Fortunately the art of breathing with a cock shoved halfway down one's gullet had also been beaten into me a very long time ago. He came in a gush and with a harsh cry, shoving me back off him. I waited for him to recover. His hand stroked my hair.

"Did that please my master?" I asked demurely.

"No," he whispered, and I shivered again. "I did not give you permission to do that. I shall have to punish you, Methos."

I suppressed a shudder. "Yes, master." Memories of Kronos' other 'punishments' filled my mind and I swayed a little with nervousness. It's just a game, I told myself - he won't kill you for a game. Much.

He lowered the lamp to a dim glow, then came back to me. "Hold your hands over your head, slave." I obeyed and he wrapped a cord around my wrists so that I could hold them about a foot apart and no more. "Keep them there, Methos. If you drop them, I will have to punish you for that."

The first blow of his belt shocked me quite unreasonably, sounding like a thunderclap in the still room. I jerked but kept my hands where he ordered them. Gods, that hurt - Silas was the strongest of us, but Kronos had had a lot of practice beating people over the centuries. A lot of practice beating  _me_  if it came to it.

He rained blows over my back, which I disliked, but when he began to strike at my chest and stomach, I felt the sweat begin to pour down my face. The question was - would he stop before I cracked, or would he only stop when I collapsed from the pain, and then beat me further? I could never tell with him. Thank the Gods he was in a lusty mood - the colour of my struck nipples seemed to fascinate him, and he stopped so he could bend and lick them. His tongue strung like fire, but the sounds I made pleased him more. "Beautiful, beautiful," he murmured. He knelt and ran his hands up and down my abused sides.

"Kronos ..." I whispered, half pleading. My arms ached. He pulled them down so my wrists were behind his head, and then suddenly, he leaned back and pulled me on top of him. The feel of his shirt against my raw skin scraped like sandpaper, and I could not resist a wriggle, trying to escape the sensation. He growled and pulled my hips against him, so that our groins ground together. He rolled us until he was over me.

"I am going to fuck you, Methos, like you have not been fucked in centuries."

"Please, brother," I said, as if the prospect gladdened me. I like a good hard fucking as much as anyone - but I had long since lost the taste for Kronos' cock. Now if it were Duncan....

He shucked his loosened breeches off with my arms around his neck still binding us together. I realised he was going to take me dry - his maleness felt huge against my unprepared entrance, and when he breached me, I yelled and arched my back. I had no fear of offending him - he liked the sounds of passion, as he thought them, and silence only provoked him to violence.

"Yes, Methos," he grunted. "So fucking tight. Love your arse." I moaned again. Despite myself, he was arousing me, hitting the spot inside me which brought me pleasure. He wrapped a hand around my erection and pumped fiercely. I yelled again - his touch was too ungentle for enjoyment, but my cock seemed not to care, filling even more. The friction was too great to hold back my climax, and my coming made Kronos roar fiercely with triumph. With a final mighty thrust that nearly tore me in half, he spilled into me, then collapsed on top of me, bending me double.

"Brother, mercy," I murmured. He grunted and moved enough so I could get my legs out from between us, but still lay on top of me. I resigned myself to several hours in this position - Kronos always liked to sleep over me, I think it reassured him I would not run away.

He rolled off me later and got up to piss. He even apologised for leaving my wrists bound, something that in truth had not bothered me. I washed both of us before we crawled back into bed to sleep, him holding on to me possessively. I woke to his cock in my face, demanding admittance, and I took him in, bringing him off in little time - the man's endurance and speed of recovery was always astonishing. He stroked my hair and my face gently before getting up and pulling on his clothes.

"Thank you, brother. I feel that today will be good, starting like that." He certainly sounded contented.

"So I would hope, Kronos."

He kissed me again. "I will see you later, Methos."

"I will count on it, brother."

He left, and I called a servant to send Duncan to me with my breakfast and bath water. I felt tired and dispirited - such was my future, I realised, if I stayed with Kronos, and kept playing this game. I honestly think I preferred being whipped daily. But then Duncan came, and my world got a little brighter, for a while. He looked well, and much more at peace - he was a resilient man, the Highlander, and a most beautiful, sweet one. Wine could not erase the taste of Kronos - but Duncan could. Making love to him dispelled entirely the disgust I felt at myself for the night before.

But Duncan was to go - I had but days, perhaps only a day, before he could safely leave. To my surprise, he seemed to regret the prospect, although I was sure he would change his mind once he was free. For myself, I could not speak of the emptiness that filled me at the thought of Duncan going - it was necessary, I told myself firmly. My resolve came close to breaking that night though - Kronos made Duncan join in his games, made him watch me being degraded painfully, and take a part in it.

Somewhere along the way, Kronos had got the bizarre idea I liked pain during sex, and that I liked his fist in me. He 'treated' me that night, and made Duncan attend to my cock, but not even Duncan's heavenly mouth could distract me the pain of having Kronos' huge hand jammed inside me, tearing me and ripping me until I could not hold back moans of pain. The sorrowful eyes of my Scot looked at me as he prepared to suck me off against his will nearly undid me completely - the only thing that saved me was that Kronos could not see my face. If nothing else, Duncan's departure would spare both of us this sick pastime. Kronos knew well how I hated being watched during sex, and I think he suspected how painful it would be to make the watcher Duncan. It was not necessarily a long thought out plan - cruelty was an instinct with Kronos.

When he left, and Duncan left me alone to fetch water, I allowed myself a few minutes of regret. I had composed myself by the time Duncan had come back, and was able to tell him all was ready for his departure with a steady voice - something I was quite proud of. The only indulgence I let myself have was to ask Duncan to hold me that night - it might have been easier for both of us if he spent the night in Dawson's room again, but I had long since learned to take my pleasures in small bites.

Never did a day pass so quickly, and before I knew it, the meal was over and I dismissed the Highlander to the kitchen as we planned, Duncan and I had said our farewells - inadequate words, and soft touches - but when I saw him walk out of the hall for the last time, a wave of despair came over me, and I thought I would choke on it. He turned and looked at me - I made myself straighten up and look blank until he turned and I saw his broad back disappear.

"Goodbye, Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod," I said quietly, and then turned my attention to Kronos. My bed mate and brother. My future. My destruction.

 

* * *

Kronos and I slept late, and by the time I 'discovered' Duncan's absence, he had had plenty of time to get clear of the castle. I confected a mighty rage, carrying out a frightening inquisition of the forewarned Dawson and the unprepared Richard and Maya in front of Kronos, who seemed more amused than anything. I insisted the castle be searched from top to bottom, that the guards be questioned, but naturally, no trace was found.

"Calm yourself, brother," Kronos said peaceably. "He was just a slave - more trouble than he was worth. I'll send out a search party if that will keep you happy."

"Do that," I snarled. "I hadn't done with the man. Now who will attend me? They are all children or yokels here."

"That blond boy - Richard? What about him? He's a lovely fuck."

I was secretly amused at how Kronos was trying to appease me - quite a turnabout. "I thought he was your pet," I said bad-temperedly, pleased beyond measure that Kronos had suggested the boy.

"We share everything, brother, or have you forgotten? Take the boy, there are plenty of others for us. I'm not as picky as you."

"All right," I said with a poor grace. "But the waste of time training that bloody Scot ..."

"Perhaps I can make it up to you later, brother?" he whispered in my ear.

"I am sure you can, Kronos."

Richard was terrified at first when I summoned him to my room and Kronos announced he was to replace Duncan - I had done far too good a job in playacting the cruel master, it seemed. Kronos left and Richard looked at me, white-faced.

"Sit down, lad," I said, doing the same.

"My lord?" His young voice shook. I could have continued to play the master but I was growing tired of being so isolated from all but the Horsemen. I could protect these people better if at least one or two trusted me.

"Sit down, " I repeated. "I have a lot to tell you."

I explained to him what game Duncan and I had been playing, and how I had helped the Highlander to escape. He did not disbelieve me, exactly, but it took Dawson to be summoned and to confirm my words before he relaxed.

"Why are you telling me this, my lord...?"

"Methos," I corrected.

"Methos. Why do you trust me?"

"Duncan trusted you, so does Master Dawson," nodding at the overseer. "And in truth, if you betray me, it will be your neck as well as mine."

"Will you help me escape too?" he asked with a painful hopefulness in his voice.

I looked at Joseph before shaking my head. "To lose one slave can be considered an accident, two would arouse suspicion. Kronos and the others will be leaving in a few months. We shall see what happens then. Until then, you and Dawson are my eyes and ears, and together we must do our best to protect ourselves and the others. Do you understand?"

"Yes," he nodded, before his face went solemn again. "Lord ... Methos - will I have to ... what Duncan did for you, I mean...?"

"Duncan did nothing for me in that way, lad, only for Kronos and Caspian. I will not ask that of you, but I cannot stop the others demanding your services. Can you bear that?"

"Ye... yes, I suppose so. If there is no choice. But you ... forgive me for speaking plainly, Methos ... but I saw you ... take Duncan, hurt him ...."

"I think I better explain that later, Methos," Dawson intervened. "Richard, all you need to know is that Methos and Duncan worked hand in glove, and if you will permit it, so shall you and he."

Richard smiled uncertainly. "Make no mistake, boy," I warned. "If the circumstances demand it, I will treat you cruelly and with no favour at all - I cannot afford to let Kronos see me being soft on you. That is as much for your sake as mine. But I will not hurt you wantonly, and I will do what I can to protect you. Now go and get your things - you will sleep in this room from now on."

"In ... in your bed, Lo ... Methos?"

I had to grin. My reputation really was appalling. "No, my lad. You can sleep by the fire like a good little slave - unless you want to ...?" I could not resist teasing him.

"No! I mean, no thank you, Methos, " he said hastily. "It's, uh, better this way. I'll return soon."

Dawson looked at me with amusement as the door shut. "That was not kind."

"So? I am easily amused."

I looked at him, but did not dare ask the question that screamed in my mind to be expressed.

"I'm sure he is safe, Methos," Dawson answered it anyway.

"I hope to God he is. I would hate to think all our hard work had gone for nothing."

"That was some act this morning, milord. Do you think Kronos suspects?"

I shrugged. "He always suspects, but I think not more than usual. We must keep our guard up - you make sure that Richard understands the difference between public and private. I don't want him slipping up."

"He's a good lad, and clever. He'll be fine. What of the others? Will you take them into your confidence too?"

"It's too risky, methinks. Except perhaps ... Maya? Richard is fond of her, is he not?"

Dawson was impressed. "Nothing gets past you, does it? They keep it very quiet, for obvious reasons."

"And so they must continue to. Maya struck me as a intelligent girl, and it would be well if Richard did not have to keep secrets from her. Send her along at some point, after you have a talk to her."

"My lord ..." I looked at him sharply, but he had used the title deliberately. "What will become of us?"

"I do not know, Master Dawson. Contrary to popular belief I do not have all the answers, nor am I Machiavelli. I will do what I can, that's all I can promise."

"When Kronos goes ...."

"When Kronos goes, he will make damn sure I cannot escape, I promise you. Do not get your hopes up just yet, Joseph. Keep your wits about you, and your eyes open. If an opportunity comes, we will take it."

When Dawson left, I put my head in my hands and wondered how the hell I was going to get through the next few months, let alone the next few years. Oh, yes, I had felt despair before, and this was not the worst period of my life - one hundred years buried under rubble was infinitely worse - but each time this crippling sadness, this loss of hope hit me (and funny how Kronos and the advent of such feelings always went hand in hand) it felt unbearable, as if it must be the last time. There was one thing making this worse this time - Duncan, or rather, no Duncan. Having the Highlander in my life was like flying too close to the sun, and now like Icarus, I was drowning, my wings burned. The friendship, or at least the tolerance of Dawson and his other slaves did not come close to touching on the pain in my heart as I contemplated the future - full of Kronos, empty of Duncan. And yet these mortals expected me to be their salvation. I laughed out loud in the empty room at the thought, and then at my own pitifulness. I was Death - Death had no business grieving.

Kronos' unflagging infatuation with me, or at least my body, did serve the purpose that previously the torment of Duncan had done, and I won a grim kind of satisfaction in carrying on the preservation of peace and harmony that Duncan had paid for with his body and so nearly his mind. All was not sweetness and light, of course - for one thing, Caspian was tremendously put out by the development. His hatred of me knew no bounds, and I was very careful indeed not to show any favour at all to any slave, knowing this would bring instant torture and death upon the hapless person. He teased Kronos unmercifully in my presence, hoping to make him lose his temper, but it was Silas, strangely, who forced our resident madman to back down over and over. Silas disliked disharmony amongst us, and while he would never face down Kronos, and his affection for me would always mean he treated me kindly, he liked Caspian hardly more than I did.

Dawson and I worked together to make sure the slaves were well-cared for. Kronos did not interest himself in them at all other than to fuck one or the other as he chose, and even that happened rarely now since he had me to pleasure him. Silas had his firm favourites, Caspian delighted in surprising unfortunates and carrying them off for a night of horror, but I had some success in getting Kronos to force him to moderate his viciousness, pointing out that having to replace slaves all the time was a pointless waste of gold, and that dominating slaves was hardly worthy of the Horsemen's reputation.

The slaves themselves kept the household running smoothly, under Dawson's direction - they had, after all, been doing it for a long time. There were illnesses and injuries, and through Maya I offered what help I could surreptitiously although I dared not physick them directly. Maya was a worthy apprentice, having a little folk knowledge and a keen mind. One slave was causing us concern - a pregnant woman called Bess. Her pregnancy was not the easiest, but there was not a single midwife among all the women. I did what I could to prepare Maya for the coming birth, and made sure the woman had a quiet, clean area in which to have her child. She went into labour before breakfast, and Maya kept me apprised through Richard all day. Things were not going well. I kept Richard busy dashing back and forth with advice and receipts for herbs that would help staunch the bleeding and ease the pain, and so far as I could judge, Maya was winning the hard battle. I wished I could go in person, but I was simply under too much scrutiny - Richard's comings and goings were already too numerous for complete comfort. As I took my place in the hall for supper, he whispered that Bess had finally delivered a healthy boy, and she herself seemed out of danger.

"Something of interest you want to share with us, brother?" Kronos said overcasually.

"It seems we have been given a new slave, brother - a baby boy, and all it cost was a couple of pints of the mother's blood. I've just been concerned we might lose a slave instead of gaining one."

"I applaud the economy, brother, but somehow I doubt we will be here long enough to benefit from the boy. I suggest you sell him and his mother as soon as you can."

"As you wish, Kronos," I said carelessly. My hope was that my brothers would be gone before it would be time to do so.

"Send Maya to my room as soon as she is free, Richard," I whispered as he bent to take my plate.

It was much later when a ragged looking Maya came to my room - I sent Richard for food, and gave her wine before questioning her, bidding her to wash her face and arms in my bedroom's basin. She looked pale and exhausted. "My congratulations, lass. To save the babe and the mother is quite the feat in these circumstances."

"We almost failed, Methos - the baby would not breathe for such a long time. " She shook and I made her take a long draught of wine.

"Tis often so, child, but strange how often too they get the trick of it." I noticed she seemed reticent. "Is something the matter, Maya?"

"Richard says Kronos ordered her and the baby to be sold," she said sullenly. She would not look at me.

"Do not fret, lass. We have time to prepare for that - I will make sure she is not sold, I promise thee."

She gave me the full force of her large green eyes. "Thank you, Methos." She yawned, and then covered her mouth. "My God, I'm tired."

"Would you like to sleep up here tonight? With Richard?"

"My lord?" I had startled the weariness clear off her face.

"Mind, you will have to pretend I had my evil way with you, but if you like, you can tell people what a bastard I am for it." I grinned at her, and she smiled back.

"I will tell them I hated every minute of it, Methos," she said solemnly. "You mean it?"

"Just tonight, my dear. You look like you need someone of your own."

"Truly, I do. It has been... a trying day."

"I can imagine ... and here comes your supper. Eat, you two, and get some rest. Richard, put a blanket and pillow down for your sweetheart, and see she gets a good night's sleep. Oh - and Richard, I think I'm coming down with deafness. I expect it may well last until morning."

He blushed, and I smiled. I did like teasing the boy. It reminded me of teasing Duncan.

 

* * *

As spring approached and the snows melted, I knew my brothers would soon leave. Kronos was eager to be off, and my only fear was that he would change his mind about leaving me behind. He speculated often that he did not want to leave my talents to go to waste, and only my assiduous assurances that I would still be here when he returned deflected that line of conversation. It was with no small measure of relief that the day approached when he planned to go. On the last evening, he asked me to join him in his room, and unusually, to smoke some opium together with him. He had not done so before, and the simple reason was the same as why I disliked the drug altogether - under its influence, one was far too vulnerable. I could not refuse him, of course, and the thought of taking his head never entered mine - there were still all his guards and our two brothers to contend with. He fucked me with more than usual passion, but then tenderly washed me with his own hands, before offering me the pipe. I inhaled deeply, letting the lassitude of the drug fill my bones. I had little fear of what he would do - if he wanted my head, he had had many opportunities to take it.

"Methos, my brother - what will I do without you?" he said drowsily, lounging on the bed.

"Think about returning," I said lightly. I had to be careful what I said under the drug's influence.

He traced a finger up my thigh. "I know you want to leave me, Methos."

I stiffened. "No, Kronos, I swear ..."

He waved his hand in dismissal of my words. "None of that, brother. I know you have lost your taste for our life - I am willing to wait until your appetite returns. It will, Methos. I know you too well not to be sure of that."

"You are always right, Kronos," I said evenly.

He beamed slightly drunkenly. "I am, aren't I?" Then he grew more serious. "But I have to be sure you'll stay, brother. You're too great a prize to lose."

"You're leaving your guard, Kronos. Isn't that enough?"

"Perhaps, he said lazily, his hand on my hip. "You know they'll kill all the slaves here if you leave, and come after you. I made the captain promise me."

"Sounds fair," I said calmly, horror in my heart.

"I thought so, brother. But then Caspian had a wonderful idea. Shall I tell you ... no, wait, let me show you. Caspian!"

I sat up and would have stood but Kronos launched himself at me, pinning me down. The drug had slowed my reflexes fatally. "Don't, brother, you don't need to do this ... " I said desperately as Silas and Caspian came into the room. Kronos stroked my face.

"Shhh, Methos. He won't hurt you. Ah, Caspian, bring it over."

"Kronos...," I pleaded. He put his finger to his lips to signal my silence. Caspian held up his invention - a breastplate, it seemed ... no, an iron shirt. "No ... don't, Kronos, please ..." My words did me no good.

Silas held me still while Kronos and Caspian forced my arms into the thing and locked me into it. It was hideously uncomfortable, and so heavy I could not sit upright without assistance. "It's to slow you down, brother. Can't run far in that, now, can you?"

I glared at Kronos. "Is this supposed to convince me that staying with the Horsemen is a good thing, Kronos? I don't like being caged, you know that."

"Hush, brother," he said, kissing my unwilling lips. "It's only for a few months. If you're here when we get back, and there is no trouble, perhaps we won't need it next time."

"I'll kill you for this, Caspian," I spat. The bastard merely grinned and threw a sword at me which I could not catch.

"Have at me, Methos - feel free." I tried to stand, but could only stagger, and of course I could not reach the sword.

"You fucking bastard!" I shouted.

Kronos was amused by our exchange. "Now, now, brothers. Methos, you will be well protected, I promise, and if you stay in the castle like a good man, you won't meet any nasty Immortals. The slaves are obedient and my men will keep them under control. All you have to do is wait for me to come back."

"Then I suggest you do not delay, brother," I said with irony that probably went over his head. "Silas, help me to my room. Brothers, I bid you farewell - you will excuse me if I do not leap from my bed to say good speed to you."

Caspian giggled. Kronos embraced me, and then Silas half carried, half dragged me out of the room.

"Why, Silas? Why did you help them?" I pleaded as he held me up.

"Kronos ordered it, brother," he said simply. "It doesn't hurt, does it?" suddenly worried, despite his unquestioning obedience.

"Yes, it does - put it on and you'll see."

He peered at my face, and looked at the edges of the thing which cut into me. "I think you will get used to it, Methos. It won't be for long."

"Easy for you to say."

Richard was lying by the fire, and his face registered his shock at seeing me like that.

"Help me, Richard," I ordered. The boy came to my aid immediately. "Thank you, Silas, I can manage." My gigantic brother hugged me, and despite my anger, I could not not return his affection.

"You look after yourself, brother," he rumbled. "Watch your head."

"You too, Silas. Go on." One could not hate Silas - he really only did what Kronos told him.

Richard closed the door and looked at me in puzzlement. "What is this, Methos?" he asked. "Maya brought up some shirts for you, by Kronos' order, she said."

I explained, and while I did so, got the boy to help me lie down. Caspian had made no attempt at making the thing remotely comfortable, so it cut at neck and hip, and if I took a deep breath, it constricted me. No dancing in this outfit, I thought sourly, nor much else.

Richard covered me up, turned down the lamp and resumed his place by the fire. Shortly his heavy breathing confirmed he was asleep - lucky lad, I thought. There seemed no position I could lie in that this contrivance did not dig into me, and I foretold little sleep in the next few months. I knew Kronos was not intending to make me a target for other immortals, but he could not have done a better job if he had wanted to. All I had to do to be free was to say I would travel with them - then Kronos would torch the place, kill all the slaves and ride off. A high price for rest, all in all. I gritted my teeth mentally, and resigned myself to getting used to this cruel and unusual restriction.

But my brothers were not done playing with me - at least, not one brother. I felt a Presence and called to Richard. He was on his feet, the lamp burning high when the door opened and Caspian strolled in. "Get out," he said curtly to Richard, who fled.

"Get the hell out of my room, Caspian," I spat. "You and I have nothing to say to each other."

If I had to, I would shout for Kronos. My sick brother had other ideas, producing a cloth from his pocket and, despite my struggles, quickly gagged me with it. Damn it! The cursed shirt made resistance impossible.

"Better, brother. You talk too much, Methos. Always did. Always got the pick of things, and Kronos' ear. You made a mistake, choosing to stay. I'll have months and months of him to myself, and then we'll see what he thinks of you."

If my mouth were free, I would have pointed out that it was Caspian who brought me back to Kronos, but I could not speak, nor would my words have done any good. I tried to push him away, but I only had the use of my lower arms, and could put no force behind them. He rolled me over, and tore my breeches off me.

"There, Methos - you look like a turtle on its back, and twice as helpless. I could leave you like this, you know. Leave you gagged, helpless, forbid the staff to enter. You'd starve to death long before any of them were brave enough to check on you. Would you like that, sweet brother?"

Dawson would come, I knew that, just as I knew Caspian would carry out the threat. He tied my hands behind me, a rather unnecessary precaution, I thought. It was hard to breathe in this position, the weight of the iron breast plate resting on my chest entirely. I knew also what was to come, and sure enough, the familiar burning pain tore through my backside. I screamed uselessly behind the gag.

"Been waiting for my chance, brother. You and Duncan dear, you and brother Kronos - never a scrap for Caspian, heh?" He thrust again viciously - I hoped it hurt his cock. I buried my face in the mattress. "You see, you're so clever, and yet over and over I have bested you, my clever brother. What does that say? And I can do it again any time I like. You remember that,  _brother_."

He kept up his pounding - I half wished Kronos had wanted to enforce my chastity by extending the length of the thing over my arse, but it would have caused other problems. It was just another rape by someone I cared nothing about, I told myself. Pretend it's Duncan, like you did before, Methos. That brought another sort of pain, but at least took me away from the smelly animal on my back until he pulled out suddenly and spent his seed all over the back of my legs and my bum - marking his territory no doubt, I thought.

He pulled my head up by the hair and whispered harshly in my ear, "You remember this, brother. You remember this next time you humiliate me in front of anyone. I can take you whenever I want."

I thought he was done, but then the smell of blood accompanying the horrible new pain in my buttock confirmed he was using his knife. It was not simple sadism, although it was certainly that as well - when the pain of his knife eased, then there was a stinging. What the hell was the bastard doing?

"Now you have my mark, Methos. It should last until I get back. I wonder what brother Kronos will make of it?"

He tattooed me? I struggled with impotent rage, and he laughed again, slapping me against the healing injuries - the only way a tattoo takes on one of us for any length of time is to cut deep and to pour lots of ink or soot into the wound. Trust him to know that.

He left me gagged as he threatened, closing the door quietly so not to cause a disturbance. His come dried slowly on my back, and I was cold with my bared nether regions. The injuries he caused healed quickly enough - I tried to put the incident out of my mind. That was the thing - after so many horrors, so much cruelty, it all began to blur, and one more rape, one more beating, one more piece of torture, added no more to my pain. Until one day I supposed, as it had with Duncan, I would break under it. But that day was not today. I had to be strong - people relied on me. Duncan had entrusted them to me.

It was late the next morning before Richard crept back in, bringing Dawson with him to my embarrassment. "Mother of God, Methos!" Dawson cried, releasing me from the dirty gag.

I spat as Dawson hastily covered me up and ordered Richard to fetch water and food. "Have they gone?" I asked in a raspy voice.

"Yes, half an hour ago. Caspian told us not to interfere - luckily Richard told me about this ... my God, Methos ... it's horrible...."

"And that surprises you, Dawson?" I said peevishly, ashamed the mortal had seen me helpless as a babe, splattered with another man's seed, my own blood and the mark of ownership fresh on my body.

"I'm surprised ...no, I was going to say that it is you, but Caspian ... no, I am not surprised. You suffer this for us?" he said gently, touching the iron.

"Don't get sentimental, Joseph. I have no love of raiding. Better this than being with the others for months on end." His mouth twitched - I don't think he believed me. "Where is that blasted boy? I want to be clean."

'The blasted boy' came back soon enough, and cleaned me off, Dawson standing away politely. I think I would have preferred the experienced older man to have done it, rather than have seen the pity and horror in Richard's eyes. "My lord ... Methos ... I'm sorry I left...."

"Richard, you did exactly what you should have done, what I told you to do," I said firmly. "Caspian would have cut you down without a second's thought, my boy, and who would have come for me then? Now help me up and let's put one of these fancy new shirts to use."

Kronos had, as usual, thought of everything and had arranged for clothes which laced in front and back to be made, ones which slipped over the iron shirt and could done up without me lifting my arms. So thoughtful of him.

Once dressed, I broke my fast under Dawson's watchful eyes. "Joseph, please stop staring at me."

"I'm sorry, Methos. I was just thinking that - well, we could free you from that thing, and you could escape...."

"No! Dawson, hear this. We must proceed with even more caution than before - Kronos has ordered the guard captain to kill you all if I leave, and then to come after me."

"But the shirt ...."

"I don't know how much the man knows, Joseph - if he sees me suddenly strolling about unaided, he will get suspicious. No, we leave things as they are, we tell no one about this. Only Maya may be told. Understood, Richard?" He nodded. "However, it is also important that my vulnerability is not known about - it may prove too great a temptation for one of your fellows, and if they attempt an assassination, that will also bring death upon you all. I will have to appear at hall as usual, and at other times to show my authority. I suspect with a little more practice I can walk without assistance, once I am up. You two will have to likewise become adept at helping me without seeming to. Can you do that?"

"Yes, Methos, we will," Dawson answered firmly.

"Good. Now, we have a castle to run and people to feed and shelter. Nothing has changed, except there being fewer mouths. At least security will not be a problem, I suspect."

I was a prisoner more secured than one in a locked cell. I could not rise from a seated or prone position without assistance, and I had to be very careful not to fall or stumble. It was all a mighty pain in the arse, but entirely necessary as the guard captain was watching me closely every time I saw him. I would sign the mortals' death warrant to ask them to set me free, since they could only do that by irreparably damaging the bindings on the breastplate. The only thing was to endure, to use these months while the Horsemen were away to try and make some sort of plan, and hope against hope that something - or someone - would turn up. In the end, they did.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Continued in Part 2 (coming soon). Where did Methos go when he left Duncan after the defeat of the Horsemen?


End file.
